March or Die
by Goldrune09
Summary: Post-voldieshorts, what if harry believed that he lost everything in the final battle? How would a person with nothing to lose react? Au and OCC-ness. 12-12-12 compelled me to post this story.


**Hey folks, Gold here, just wanted to give credit for the story idea to Rorschach's Blot for their awesome story in chapter 99 of Odd ideas. I DO have permission to attempt to make something of this story. The pairing are currently being decided upon. There will be a poll on my page if anyone wants to give me an idea on what the current favorite pairing is.**

March or Die

Time seemed to stop as he watched her body, it was so still and his heart shattered as he realized what that must mean … his best friend was dead. Neville ran over to check but was cut down before he could confirm what Harry already knew. Harry watched as his friends fell one by one until he couldn't take it any longer.

The assorted combatants froze as an agonizing scream that spoke of never ending sorrow echoed across the battle field, as one they turned to face the source and beheld the boy who lived, the hope of many slump in defeat. The dark cheers of Voldemort's followers cut off when the dejected figure of the Boy who Lived straightened his stance shifting it from abject and total despair to something else, something more dangerous. To those watching his every movement screamed of his new purpose, his only reason to remain in the land of the living… revenge.

Harry didn't seem to care about the curses being flung his way, didn't even try to dodge as hex after hex impacted on his battered body. Ignoring his wounds, he went through the assembled Death Eaters, killing them one by one until only their leader remained.

The Dark Lord Voldemort paled as he watched his young nemesis approach. For the first time since he'd been a small boy in the orphanage, the Dark Lord felt fear. Too late he learned the lesson that no matter how much power you acquire, there will always be someone better and there was no doubt in Tom's mind that his death was written in Harry's killing curse eyes.

From her place on the side lines, Tonks watched in awe as the Dark Lord met his end and for the first time she understood what one of her instructors had tried to explain. He'd told them that they must never get into a fight with someone who has nothing to lose, with someone who has lost everything and has nothing left in the world then to spread the pain that they feel.

Tonks shuddered as she watched 'the-boy-who-lived' finish off his opponent. She wanted to go over, to comfort the boy and tell him that all would be fine but she couldn't. Her body betrayed her and she could not muster up the will to leave her place of safety and approach the boy that screamed danger to her finely honed senses.

Harry looked down at Voldemort's body, feeling strangely empty. He didn't understand the emptiness at first. He'd grown up without friends hadn't he, why should their sudden loss affect him so much? Unbidden, the thought that 'one does not know what one has until it is lost' echoed through his mind. Harry knew that he couldn't go back to a life of solitude, not after experiencing the joys of companionship. He didn't even consider finding new friends; it would be like betraying those he had led to their deaths.

With a sob, Harry cast down his wand and took up the one of his defeated nemisis. It just didn't feel right to carry Holly, not after what he'd done.

Amelia arrived twenty minutes later to find the ministry in chaos. Rumors filled the air as everyone tried to make sense of what had happened.

"Out of my way," Amelia growled as she cut through the crowd. The field Aurors on the scene immediately led her to the cordoned area where the Dark Lord had made his last stand. "Where's Potter," Amelia asked in a low tone.

"No one knows," the field Auror admitted, "blood trail leads to the floo room. He could be anywhere . . . we . . . we don't know why he left ma'am."

"Same reason a wounded animal crawls off," Amelia replied, "to die . . . do we have a trace on him?"

"We did," the Auror said slowly, "but we lost it before it could tell us anything."

"Mark him missing and presumed dead," Amelia said unemotionally.

"Understood Chief."

"Who else did we lose?"

"Not a single death on the side of the angels Chief," the Auror said quickly, "touch and go with some of the kids for a while but they all pulled through."

"That's something anyway," Amelia sighed, "round up the press. Tell them I'm going to make a statement."

Harry woke up in a strange place feeling better than he had in years. The weight of what had happened fell upon him as he remembered what had happened.

"How did I . . . Fawkes?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's Phoenix crooned at him, confirming that he'd had a hand in the boy's miraculous recovery.

"You shouldn't have saved me Fawkes," Harry said in a dull tone, "at least then I'd have been with my friends again."

The Phoenix drooped a bit at the boy's statement. He could heal the boy's physical scars but he'd never be able to cure the child's emotional torments.

It was a broken man who approached the legion recruiter, he had heard that the legion was a good place to forget, a good place to disappear, a good place to die. The legion sergeant behind the counter had seen many such men, men who had lost all reason to live

And after the barrage of tests he was given a simple choice between taking a normal five year contract and something special, a two year contract but of course there was a catch. The recruiter went on to explain that if he chose to take the second option, he would receive his training from a series of pensives and after absorbing the memories and skills of a dozen legionaries, veterans of some of the legion's bloodiest campaigns. Then, provided he was able to survive the experience with his sanity intact he would then be given an astonishing variety of potions, the first series of potions integrated the foreign made the foreign memories taken from the pensive indistinguishable from his own, the second series instilled the reflexes and the muscle memory to insure the skills could be used. And finally the last dozen or so gave him the strength and stamina needed to be one of the legions elite, the first to fight, the first to die. Without hesitation the young boy made his choice, and with that choice disappeared from the wizarding world.

As Hermione awoke she became conscious of a presence beside her bed, looking she saw the dejected form of Dobby, the small house elf straightened as he noticed her gaze, a trembling arm rose to wipe the tears and his eyes were filled with uncertainty as he turned to speak with her.

"Dobby cannot find Harry Potter sir, nothing can hide a master from his house elf but Dobby can find his Harry Potter, Dobby knows that Harry Potter is alive but he cannot find Harry Potter sir. Dobby is afraid miss Hermy, Dobby is very afraid."


End file.
